


Incubation

by chimericsnap



Category: Prototype (Video Games)
Genre: Body Horror, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-19
Updated: 2016-02-19
Packaged: 2018-05-21 14:36:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6055204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chimericsnap/pseuds/chimericsnap
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s a lab accident. Dr. Mercer finds he’s not so upset about it as he could be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Incubation

It was a work of art. Liquid ruby with a golden suspension, it was a masterpiece in progress, the culmination of years of work, his baby, his pride and joy, the one thing he actually cared about in the damned world.

It was also splattered across the tile, the liquid already starting to evaporate. The warning sirens didn't even penetrate the haze that fell over his vision as he crouched down, the usually deafening crackle of the containment suit so very far away.

It was futile to even hope to save anything, but Alex found himself picking up one of the largest of the vial's shards, the red liquid pooled in the curvature of the glass. It was almost ironic, the most lethal virus ever known to man (and he would be happy to claim perhaps the most lethal virus ever) had been destroyed not through quarantines or anti-viral medication but by a clumsy junior doctor and slippery gloves.

"Mr. Mercer, we've got to evacuate!" the asshole dared to grab his arm and pull him off balance, the last shard slipping through the suit's slick fingers.

"That's _Doctor_ ," he seethed, slapping the man's hand away. "And I know the procedures." Casting one last forlorn look back at the shattered vial and faint red mist, he stepped into the airlock for decontamination.

The tedious process passed in a blur; the suit he wore would be incinerated, his lab laboriously decontaminated over the next 48 hours ( _well_ past both the active time for his virus and any possible incubation period), and everyone present went through the standard two step process to ensure they were clean. A chemical A-113A shower was far from pleasant, but the only thing he could think of was _destroying_ the asshole who ruined his work.

It took all his self control not to grab the bastard, smash his face in, crush his mockingly blanched face underfoot, pop the lid off the A-113A canister and see if it really was so harmless to humans when inhaled-

No, that wouldn't do at all. He'd left that life far behind him, both in miles and years. He'd done his best to purge his soul of any taint from that bitch. There were more civilized and more effective ways to destroy someone's life.

McMullen didn't even look up when he stormed into his office. No doubt the thick pile of forms he was filling out was due to the lab "accident". It couldn't have been a true accident, no one was that clumsy.

"I want him fired," he hissed, slamming the door behind him.

"Your assistant? Do you even remember his name, Alex?" McMullen asked as he looked up, arching an eyebrow. Seeing Alex pause, he sighed and waved it off. "Never mind, then. Now, what is it you really want?"

"I want him gone. I want his _career_ , Raymond," he snarled. "That vial was worth more than his entire body is worth even if we sold it piece by piece."

McMullen paused with a frown, looking him over. Probably looking for weakness, a small part of him whispered. Well, he wouldn't find any weakness in Alex this time, just righteous rage.

Whatever McMullen thought he saw, obviously it was enough to convince him to capitulate, as he rightfully should. "I'll take care of it," he promised, his tone soothing. "But may take a bit to clear up the leak, so why don't you take some time off, Alex? You've been working yourself hard lately, too hard. I'll handle everything."

"So you'll blacklist him?" Alex demanded.

"You won't have to worry about ever working with him again. No one in the industry will."

"And my lab?" Alex frowned at him, suspicious of how easy it had been.

"I'll call you the minute your lab is cleared, alright?"

"Are you sure I couldn't just use one of the other labs?"

McMullen laughed softly, shaking his head. "Oh Alex, I love your work ethic, but you can take a break. That was .. quite the loss, wasn't it. Go home, gather your thoughts, and when you come back your lab and new assistant will be waiting for you."

"I suppose," Alex wavered.

"No supposing about it," McMullen came around the desk, escorting him out of the office. "It's in stasis, correct? You don't need to worry about it, it'll still be here when you get back."

 

* * *

 

He woke in the night to a hot brand stabbing into his skin. Jerking awake, he pulled his hand to his chest.

Or at least he tried to. His arm worked perfectly fine, but the hand convulsed on its own, fingers twitching and grasping at the air even as the burning sensation faded to an angry buzz not unlike a limb falling asleep. Carefully holding his right hand with the left to keep it still, he examined it as best he could in the dark. Nothing _seemed_ amiss, there were no visible punctures or cuts, nothing to indicate where the pain may have come from. And yet...

It had to have been the "accident" earlier. He wasn't stupid, the shard he picked up must have been sharper than he thought, sharp enough to create a hairline puncture in the seal of the suit, and and the virus must have gotten into his system through a micro-abrasion....

Calmer now, he flexed his hand, or rather sent the impulse into that fuzzy sharp void.

One...

Two...

Three...

Four...

His hand spasmed. A weak, abortive attempt, but it still made him wonder. His hand spasmed again, this time not from anything he had done. A few seconds later, his fingers managed to close on their own. It appeared that his hand was no longer under his complete control.

He felt like laughing. Or crying. All that work, all that belief that he really had something, and the worst his creation had managed to do was give him a case of alien hand syndrome. Madly, he felt like apologizing to it. He'd taken one of the most beautiful and deadly viruses (really, as far from _rhinopharyngitis_ as humans were from amoebae) and _crippled_ it. At best, they'd end up as a case note in a report.

He saw it then. A tiny black _tendril_ no bigger than a hang nail emerging from between the skin and nail of his index finger. Careful not to jostle his hand any further, he groped blindly for a pen on his dresser, wincing when the clock was knocked over. He'd have to remember to pick that up later.

Careful prodding of the tendril with the pen caused the tendril to writhe and twitch before attempting to blindly wrap around the tip. Alex snorted in amusement at the futile attempt, it wasn't even big enough to do that. His second push with the pen tip was far more gentle, he certainly didn't want to crush whatever was growing.

The idea of reporting the change to McMullan was quickly squashed. Of course his virus had never been cleared for human testing, and now never would, but now he had the perfect opportunity to observe it's growth on his own terms. Even if amputation could separate his creation from himself he'd never do it. Now that it had begun, he was going to see it through no matter what. He just knew his virus was going to be something _wonderful_. His legacy would bring the world to its knees.


End file.
